Run As Fast As You Can, Then Jump
by poopoopops
Summary: Santana and Quinn are on the run from the very people who cursed them with the gifts of fire and mind.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy, Fox and anyone else who holds rights to the show.**

**A/N: Just something I wrote for fun.**

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Santana woke up to the sound of muffled footsteps and the hairs on her neck prickling.

It was dark when she opened her eyes but not so dark as to mask the silhouettes of the four men standing in the doorway with their rifles raised.

Years of having to sleep with one eye open had her reacting fast. Quick as a snake, she encircled her arms around the sleeping body next to her and rolled them both off the bed, where she landed hard on her back, her partner hugged tight to her body. She groaned. Quinn really should cut down on the bacon.

Something whizzed by their faces with a whistle and struck the wall behind them.

"Wha... What's happening?" Quinn managed groggily, and while Santana would curse her under normal circumstances for being slow on the uptake, present ones had her simply shoving Quinn off her body and lunging up for her lighter on the dresser. Just as her fingers closed around the metal case of the lighter, she felt a sharp pinch at the side of her neck. A tranquilizer dart.

"You'll wish you never did that motherfuckers," the brunette growled as she straightened up to face her assailants, her stance intimidating even before she had flicked up the lid and thumbed the wheel of her Zippo.

Load and fire.

With a thrust of her hand, the tiny flame on the lighter morphed into a fiery stream of unrelenting heat to attack the men, violent and angry like its master. There wasn't much the men could do when the fire reached them but survival had them beating futilely at their bodies as they screamed and staggered back into the hallway. But the damage wasn't to stop there. Outside, the stream erupted in a blazing fireball, melting the paint on the walls and eating up cheap picture frames. Fire lapped at the doorframe, providing a temporary blockade and not for the first time, Santana found she didn't have it in her to care if she had killed someone.

"They've found us," Quinn's voice piped up, now clear of all sleep.

"No shit Quinn. Aren't you the telepath? Why didn't you hear them?" she retorted, wincing when she plucked out the dart from her neck with her thumb and index.

Luckily for her and unluckily for her assailants, she had long ago taught herself to burn through foreign chemicals (like alcohol) in her body before they could affect her system; a little perk of her firepower. Tranquilizers had nothing on her.

Still, that benefit did nothing to quell the irritation created by her dependence on a source. She could manipulate fire; make it grow, make it hotter, increase its intensity, dictate the direction and velocity of which it travels but she couldn't do any of it without fire itself. And that pissed her off. She would be nothing without a source; vulnerable and defenceless as she was a minute ago.

"Santana," Quinn frowned, her tone not unlike that of a scolding parent trying to reason with a petulant child, "You know that's not how my powers work."

"I don't know or care how your weird powers work. How many?" she asked Quinn as she threw the dart on the floor and slipped on her rugged boots, deliberately changing the subject.

Next to her, Quinn was already hoisting one of the two full bag packs over her shoulders. They always had a getaway pack ready for each of them for when they had to run; basic needs like clothes, cash and dried food.

"Those in the corridor are dead," a small line marred Quinn's forehead as she pressed two fingers to her temple, opening a pinpoint hole in her mental armour to let the world in. White noise became whispers and whispers became words, "Eight more coming up the stairway. I can't tell beyond a few floors down. We have half a minute."

"Out through the window then," Santana suggested. She was already fully dressed and pushing open the glass pane.

She easily caught the bag pack that Quinn tossed at her, even when her eyes were fixed at a spot twenty stories down, "I see more downstairs, at least fifteen odd. We won't be able to get out from there, at least not without a fight," she jabbed a thumb back at the burning doorway.

"Then let's go."

When Santana merely shuffled her feet, Quinn arched one perfect eyebrow and huffed, "Well, go out through the window like you said. What are you waiting for?"

"Okay," she slipped one leg over the window sill only to bring it back in hastily, "But the last time we did this, we went out together," she explained sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck in discomfort.

"Oh for heaven's sake, don't get all needy on me now. It's not like I'll let you fall! Besides, the window isn't big enough for the both of us."

When Santana merely continued staring at her feet, Quinn made an exasperated tutting sound with her tongue, "Geez, I'll go first while you ready your guts," she snapped impatiently, then launched herself out of the window, her power of telekinesis allowing her to keep afloat, "C'mon get moving already. It's not as if I'm asking you to jump off a building."

At that, Santana stared at her incredulously, "You ARE asking me to jump off a building. Not everyone can fly like you."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "You know what I mean and for the last time, I can't fly. I have telekinetic powers that enable me to levitate and hold…"

She trailed off when they heard shouts ring down the hallway.

"Save the lecture professor."

Taking a step back to the doorway, Santana pushed out with her arms, reawakening the furnace that had previously dwindled. Small explosions rocked the floor as fire flew through the corridor once more and down the stairway, leaving behind mayhem in its wake.

Taking a deep breath, she ran towards the window and dived out, eyes and mouth clamped shut to prevent the silent scream from bursting out her lungs. She would never hear the end of it if she did. Quinn would mock her till she was ten years under her grave.

When she realised she had not fallen to her death, she opened one eye cautiously and peered at the ground beneath her, "Urgh. I hate flying," she shuddered and wrapped her arms around her body.

Shaking her head, Quinn chose to ignore her friend as she propelled them forward, leaving behind a devastated building, "I hate it when that happens. I hope the motel is insured."

Causing mayhem and destruction always left her feeling bad but apparently, her concerns were not shared.

"Yeah whatever. Can you like move me closer? That way, if you let me fall, I know I would be taking you down with me."

"You can be such a bitch sometimes," Quinn complained, then smirked when an idea came to her.

She released her hold.

"Ahhhhhhh… Quinnnnnnnnnnnnnn!" Santana screamed, arms flapping frantically as she was dropped, "Son of a.. motherfucker.. shit.."

By the time Quinn decided she had had enough fun, Santana had spewed out a string of profanities foul enough to make a sailor blush. Laughing, she brought Santana back up to her level and almost dropped them both again when the latter started clambering all over her, desperate to get a tight hold on her anchor.

"Fuck you. Don't do that again!" she breathed out shakily once she felt she was wrapped safely enough around Quinn. Well as safe as she could be in the air.

"Shut up," she directed at Quinn but though her tone was hard, there was a small upward quirk at the side of her mouth.

"I didn't say anything Miss I-think-if-I-flap-my-arms-I-can-fly," Quinn responded in turn, trying to stifle her giggles as they flew, "You should have seen your face. It was classic!" she pumped her fist in uncharacteristic excitement.

"Shut up," Santana blushed, still too unnerved to think of a better comeback.

They flew on in comfortable silence for a while before Quinn deemed it necessary to speak up, "We're going to New York right?"

"Yeah," Santana nodded from where she was clinging tightly onto the mindbender's back. As an afterthought, she added, "Actually, anywhere that is land would be great."


End file.
